certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

No. 01521. Argued March 26, 2002Decided June 27, 2002

The Minnesota Supreme Court has adopted a canon of judicial conduct that prohibits a candidate for a judicial office from announc[ing] his or her views on disputed legal or political issues (hereinafter announce clause). While running for associate justice of that court, petitioner Gregory Wersal (and others) filed this suit seeking a declaration that the announce clause violates the
First Amendment and an injunction against its enforcement. The District Court granted respondent officials summary judgment, and the Eighth Circuit affirmed.

(a) The record demonstrates that the announce clause prohibits a judicial candidate from stating his views on any specific nonfanciful legal question within the province of the court for which he is running, except in the context of discussing past decisionsand in the latter context as well, if he expresses the view that he is not bound by
stare decisis
. Pp. 48.

(b) The announce clause both prohibits speech based on its content and burdens a category of speech that is at the core of
First Amendment freedomsspeech about the qualifications of candidates for public office. The Eighth Circuit concluded, and the parties do not dispute, that the proper test to be applied to determine the constitutionality of such a restriction is strict scrutiny, under which respondents have the burden to prove that the clause is (1) narrowly tailored, to serve (2) a compelling state interest.
E.g., Eu
v.
San Francisco County Democratic Central Comm.,
489 U. S. 214. That court found that respondents had established two interests as sufficiently compelling to justify the announce clause: preserving the state judiciarys impartiality and preserving the appearance of that impartiality. Pp. 89.

(c) Under any definition of impartiality, the announce clause fails strict scrutiny. First, it is plain that the clause is not narrowly tailored to serve impartiality (or its appearance) in the traditional sense of the word,
i.e.,
as a lack of bias for or against either party to the proceeding. Indeed, the clause is barely tailored to serve that interest at all, inasmuch as it does not restrict speech for or against particular parties, but rather speech for or against particular issues. Second, although impartiality in the sense of a lack of preconception in favor of or against a particular legal view may well be an interest served by the announce clause, pursuing this objective is not a compelling state interest, since it is virtually impossible, and hardly desirable, to find a judge who does not have preconceptions about the law, see
Laird
v.
Tatum,
409 U. S. 824. Third, the Court need not decide whether achieving impartiality (or its appearance) in the sense of openmindedness is a compelling state interest because, as a means of pursuing this interest, the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive that the Court does not believe it was adopted for that purpose. See,
e.g., City of Ladue
v.
Gilleo,
512 U. S. 43. Respondents have not carried the burden imposed by strict scrutiny of establishing that statements made during an election campaign are uniquely destructive of openmindedness. See,
e.g.,
Landmark Communications, Inc.
v.
Virginia,
435 U. S. 829. Pp. 918.

(d) A universal and long-established tradition of prohibiting certain conduct creates a strong presumption that the prohibition is constitutional, see
McIntyre
v.
Ohio Elections Commn
,
514 U. S. 334. However, the practice of prohibiting speech by judicial candidates is neither ancient nor universal. The Court knows of no such prohibitions throughout the 19th and the first quarter of the 20th century, and they are still not universally adopted. This does not compare well with the traditions deemed worthy of attention in,
e.g., Burson
v.
Freeman
,
504 U. S. 191. Pp. 1921.

(e) There is an obvious tension between Minnesotas Constitution, which requires judicial elections, and the announce clause, which places most subjects of interest to the voters off limits. The
First Amendment does not permit Minnesota to leave the principle of elections in place while preventing candidates from discussing what the elections are about. See,
e.g., Renne
v.
Geary
,
501 U. S. 312. Pp. 2122.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

[June 27, 2002]

Justice OConnor
, concurring.

I join the opinion of the Court but write separately to express my concerns about judicial elections generally. Respondents claim that [t]he Announce Clause is necessary … to protect the States compelling governmental interes[t] in an actual and perceived . . . impartial judiciary. Brief for Respondents 8. I am concerned that, even aside from what judicial candidates may say while campaigning, the very practice of electing judges undermines this interest.

We of course want judges to be impartial, in the sense of being free from any personal stake in the outcome of the cases to which they are assigned. But if judges are subject to regular elections they are likely to feel that they have at least some personal stake in the outcome of every publicized case. Elected judges cannot help being aware that if the public is not satisfied with the outcome of a particular case, it could hurt their reelection prospects. See Eule, Crocodiles in the Bathtub: State Courts, Voter Initiatives and the Threat of Electoral Reprisal, 65 U. Colo. L. Rev. 733, 739 (1994) (quoting former California Supreme Court Justice Otto Kaus statement that ignoring the political consequences of visible decisions is  like ignoring a crocodile in your bathtub ); Bright & Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B. U. L. Rev. 759, 793794 (1995) (citing statistics indicating that judges who face elections are far more likely to override jury sentences of life without parole and impose the death penalty than are judges who do not run for election). Even if judges were able to suppress their awareness of the potential electoral consequences of their decisions and refrain from acting on it, the publics confidence in the judiciary could be undermined simply by the possibility that judges would be unable to do so.

Moreover, contested elections generally entail campaigning. And campaigning for a judicial post today can require substantial funds. See Schotland, Financing Judicial Elections, 2000: Change and Challenge, 2001 L. Rev. Mich. State U. Detroit College of Law 849, 866 (reporting that in 2000, the 13 candidates in a partisan election for 5 seats on the Alabama Supreme Court spent an average of $1,092,076 on their campaigns); American Bar Association, Report and Recommendations of the Task Force on Lawyers Political Contributions, pt. 2 (July 1998) (reporting that in 1995, one candidate for the Pennsylvania Supreme Court raised $1,848,142 in campaign funds, and that in 1986, $2,700,000 was spent on the race for Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court). Unless the pool of judicial candidates is limited to those wealthy enough to independently fund their campaigns, a limitation unrelated to judicial skill, the cost of campaigning requires judicial candidates to engage in fundraising. Yet relying on campaign donations may leave judges feeling indebted to certain parties or interest groups. See Thomas, National L. J., Mar. 16, 1998, p. A8, col. 1 (reporting that a study by the public interest group Texans for Public Justice found that 40 percent of the $9,200,000 in contributions of $100 or more raised by seven of Texas nine Supreme Court justices for their 1994 and 1996 elections came from parties and lawyers with cases before the court or contributors closely linked to these parties). Even if judges were able to refrain from favoring donors, the mere possibility that judges decisions may be motivated by the desire to repay campaign contributors is likely to undermine the publics confidence in the judiciary. See Greenberg Quinlan Rosner Research, Inc., and American Viewpoint, National Public Opinion Survey Frequency Questionnaire 4 (2001), (available at http://www.
justiceatstake.org/files/JASNationalSurveyResults.pdf) (describing survey results indicating that 76 percent of registered voters believe that campaign contributions influence judicial decisions);
id.,
at 7 (describing survey results indicating that two-thirds of registered voters believe individuals and groups who give money to judicial candidates often receive favorable treatment); Barnhizer, On the Make: Campaign Funding and the Corrupting of the American Judiciary, 50 Cath. U. L. Rev. 361, 379 (2001) (relating anecdotes of lawyers who felt that their contributions to judicial campaigns affected their chance of success in court).

Despite these significant problems, 39 States currently employ some form of judicial elections for their appellate courts, general jurisdiction trial courts, or both. American Judicature Society, Judicial Selection in the States: Appellate and General Jurisdiction Courts (Apr. 2002). Judicial elections were not always so prevalent. The first 29 States of the Union adopted methods for selecting judges that did not involve popular elections. See Croley, The Majoritarian Difficulty: Elective Judiciaries and the Rule of Law, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev. 689, 716 (1995). As the Court explains, however, beginning with Georgia in 1812, States began adopting systems for judicial elections. See
ante
, at 15. From the 1830s until the 1850s, as part of the Jacksonian movement toward greater popular control of public office, this trend accelerated, see Goldschmidt, Merit Selection: Current Status, Procedures, and Issues, 49 U. Miami L. Rev. 1, 5 (1994), and by the Civil War, 22 of the 34 States elected their judges,
ibid.
By the beginning of the 20th century, however, elected judiciaries increasingly came to be viewed as incompetent and corrupt, and criticism of partisan judicial elections mounted. Croley,
supra,
at 723. In 1906, Roscoe Pound gave a speech to the American Bar Association in which he claimed that compelling judges to become politicians, in many jurisdictions has almost destroyed the traditional respect for the bench. The Causes of Popular Dissatisfaction with the Administration of Justice, 8 Baylor L. Rev. 1, 23 (1956) (reprinting Pounds speech).

In response to such concerns, some States adopted a modified system of judicial selection that became known as the Missouri Plan (because Missouri was the first State to adopt it for most of its judicial posts). See Croley, 62 U. Chi. L. Rev., at 724. Under the Missouri Plan, judges are appointed by a high elected official, generally from a list of nominees put together by a nonpartisan nominating commission, and then subsequently stand for unopposed retention elections in which voters are asked whether the judges should be recalled.
Ibid.
If a judge is recalled, the vacancy is filled through a new nomination and appointment.
Ibid.
This system obviously reduces threats to judicial impartiality, even if it does not eliminate all popular pressure on judges. See Grodin, Developing a Consensus of Constraint: A Judges Perspective on Judicial Retention Elections, 61 S. Cal. L. Rev. 1969, 1980 (1988) (admitting that he cannot be sure that his votes as a California Supreme Court Justice in critical cases during 1986 were not influenced subconsciously by his awareness that the outcomes could affect his chances in the retention elections being conducted that year). The Missouri Plan is currently used to fill at least some judicial offices in 15 States. Croley,
supra,
at 725726; American Judicature Society, supra.

Thirty-one other States, however, still use popular elections to select some or all of their appellate and/or general jurisdiction trial court judges, who thereafter run for reelection periodically. Ibid.
Of these, slightly more than half use nonpartisan elections, and the rest use partisan elections.
Ibid.
Most of the States that do not have any form of judicial elections choose judges through executive nomination and legislative confirmation. See Croley,
supra,
at 725.

Minnesota has chosen to select its judges through contested popular elections instead of through an appointment system or a combined appointment and retention election system along the lines of the Missouri Plan. In doing so the State has voluntarily taken on the risks to judicial bias described above. As a result, the States claim that it needs to significantly restrict judges speech in order to protect judicial impartiality is particularly troubling. If the State has a problem with judicial impartiality, it is largely one the State brought upon itself by continuing the practice of popularly electing judges.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.

on writ of certiorari to the united states court of appeals for the eighth circuit

In her dissenting opinion,
Justice Ginsburg
has cogently explained why the Courts holding is unsound. I therefore join her opinion without reservation. I add these comments to emphasize the force of her arguments and to explain why I find the Courts reasoning even more troubling than its holding. The limits of the Courts holding are evident: Even if the Minnesota Lawyers Professional Responsibility Board (Board) may not sanction a judicial candidate for announcing his views on issues likely to come before him, it may surely advise the electorate that such announcements demonstrate the speakers unfitness for judicial office. If the solution to harmful speech must be more speech, so be it. The Courts reasoning, however, will unfortunately endure beyond the next election cycle. By obscuring the fundamental distinction between campaigns for the judiciary and the political branches, and by failing to recognize the difference between statements made in articles or opinions and those made on the campaign trail, the Court defies any sensible notion of the judicial office and the importance of impartiality in that context.

The Courts disposition rests on two seriously flawed premisesan inaccurate appraisal of the importance of judicial independence and impartiality, and an assumption that judicial candidates should have the same freedom  to express themselves on matters of current public importance  as do all other elected officials.
Ante
, at 16. Elected judges, no less than appointed judges, occupy an office of trust that is fundamentally different from that occupied by policymaking officials. Although the fact that they must stand for election makes their job more difficult than that of the tenured judge, that fact does not lessen their duty to respect essential attributes of the judicial office that have been embedded in Anglo-American law for centuries.

There is a critical difference between the work of the judge and the work of other public officials. In a democracy, issues of policy are properly decided by majority vote; it is the business of legislators and executives to be popular. But in litigation, issues of law or fact should not be determined by popular vote; it is the business of judges to be indifferent to unpopularity. Sir Matthew Hale pointedly described this essential attribute of the judicial office in words which have retained their integrity for centuries:

 11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

 12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice. 
1

Consistent with that fundamental attribute of the office, countless judges in countless cases routinely make rulings that are unpopular and surely disliked by at least 50 percent of the litigants who appear before them. It is equally common for them to enforce rules that they think unwise, or that are contrary to their personal predilections. For this reason, opinions that a lawyer may have expressed before becoming a judge, or a judicial candidate, do not disqualify anyone for judicial service because every good judge is fully aware of the distinction between the law and a personal point of view. It is equally clear, however, that such expressions after a lawyer has been nominated to judicial office shed little, if any, light on his capacity for judicial service. Indeed, to the extent that such statements seek to enhance the popularity of the candidate by indicating how he would rule in specific cases if elected, they evidence a lack of fitness for the office.

Of course, any judge who faces reelection may believe that he retains his office only so long as his decisions are popular. Nevertheless, the elected judge, like the lifetime appointee, does not serve a constituency while holding that office. He has a duty to uphold the law and to follow the dictates of the Constitution. If he is not a judge on the highest court in the State, he has an obligation to follow the precedent of that court, not his personal views or public opinion polls.
2
He may make common law, but judged on the merits of individual cases, not as a mandate from the voters.

By recognizing a conflict between the demands of electoral politics and the distinct characteristics of the judiciary, we do not have to put States to an all or nothing choice of abandoning judicial elections or having elections in which anything goes. As a practical matter, we cannot know for sure whether an elected judges decisions are based on his interpretation of the law or political expediency. In the absence of reliable evidence one way or the other, a State may reasonably presume that elected judges are motivated by the highest aspirations of their office. But we do know that a judicial candidate, who announces his views in the context of a campaign, is effectively telling the electorate: Vote for me because I believe X, and I will judge cases accordingly. Once elected, he may feel free to disregard his campaign statements,
ante
, at 14, but that does not change the fact that the judge announced his position on an issue likely to come before him
as a reason to vote for him
. Minnesota has a compelling interest in sanctioning such statements.

A candidate for judicial office who goes beyond the expression of general observation about the law … in order to obtain favorable consideration of his candidacy,
Laird
v.
Tatum
,
409 U. S. 824, n. 5 (1972) (memorandum of
Rehnquist
, J., on motion for recusal), demonstrates either a lack of impartiality or a lack of understanding of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the impartiality of the judiciary. It is only by failing to recognize the distinction, clearly stated by then-
Justice Rehnquist,
between statements made during a campaign or confirmation hearing and those made before announcing ones candidacy, that the Court is able to conclude: [S]ince avoiding judicial preconceptions on legal issues is neither possible nor desirable, pretending otherwise by attempting to preserve the appearance of that type of impartiality can hardly be a compelling state interest either,
ante,
at 12.

Even when impartiality is defined in its narrowest sense to embrace only the lack of bias for or against either
party
to the proceeding,
ante,
at 9, the announce clause serves that interest. Expressions that stress a candidates unbroken record of affirming convictions for rape,
3
for example, imply a bias in favor of a particular litigant (the prosecutor) and against a class of litigants (defendants in rape cases). Contrary to the Courts reasoning in its first attempt to define impartiality,
ante
, at 910, an interpretation of the announce clause that prohibits such statements serves the States interest in maintaining both the appearance of this form of impartiality and its actuality.

When the Court evaluates the importance of impartiality in its broadest sense, which it describes as the interest in openmindedness, or at least in the appearance of openmindedness,
ante
, at 12, it concludes that the announce clause is so woefully underinclusive as to render belief in that purpose a challenge to the credulous.
Ante,
at 13. It is underinclusive, in the Courts view, because campaign statements are an infinitesimal portion of the public commitments to legal positions that candidates make during their professional careers. It is not, however, the number of legal views that a candidate may have formed or discussed in his prior career that is significant. Rather, it is the ability both to reevaluate them in the light of an adversarial presentation, and to apply the governing rule of law even when inconsistent with those views, that characterize judicial openmindedness.

The Court boldly asserts that respondents have failed to carry their burden of demonstrating that campaign statements are uniquely destructive of openmindedness,
ante
, at 14. But the very purpose of most statements prohibited by the announce clause is to convey the message that the candidates mind is not open on a particular issue. The lawyer who writes an article advocating harsher penalties for polluters surely does not commit to that position to the same degree as the candidate who says vote for me because I believe all polluters deserve harsher penalties. At the very least, such statements obscure the appearance of openmindedness. More importantly, like the reasoning in the Courts opinion, they create the false impression that the standards for the election of political candidates apply equally to candidates for judicial office.
4

The Court seems to have forgotten its prior evaluation of the importance of maintaining public confidence in the disinterestedness of the judiciary. Commenting on the danger that participation by judges in a political assignment might erode that public confidence, we wrote: While the problem of individual bias is usually cured through recusal, no such mechanism can overcome the appearance of institutional partiality that may arise from judiciary involvement in the making of policy. The legitimacy of the Judicial Branch ultimately depends on its reputation for impartiality and nonpartisanship. That reputation may not be borrowed by the political Branches to cloak their work in the neutral colors of judicial action.
Mistretta
v.
United States
,
488 U. S. 361,
407 (1989)
.

Conversely, the judicial reputation for impartiality and openmindedness is compromised by electioneering that emphasizes the candidates personal predilections rather than his qualifications for judicial office. As an elected judge recently noted:

Informed criticism of court rulings, or of the professional or personal conduct of judges, should play an important role in maintaining judicial accountability. However, attacking courts and judgesnot because they are wrong on the law or the facts of a case, but because the decision is considered wrong simply as a matter of political judgmentmaligns one of the basic tenets of judicial independenceintellectual honesty and dedication to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of popular sentiment. Dedication to the rule of law requires judges to rise above the political moment in making judicial decisions. What is so troubling about criticism of court rulings and individual judges based solely on political disagreement with the outcome is that it evidences a fundamentally misguided belief that the judicial branch should operate and be treated just like another constituency-driven political arm of government. Judges should not have political constituencies. Rather, a judges fidelity must be to enforcement of the rule of law regardless of perceived popular will. De Muniz, Politicizing State Judicial Elections: A Threat to Judicial Independence, 38 Williamette L. Rev. 367, 387 (2002).

The disposition of this case on the flawed premise that the criteria for the election to judicial office should mirror the rules applicable to political elections is profoundly misguided. I therefore respectfully dissent.

Notes

1
2 J. Campbell, Lives of the Chief Justices of England 208 (1873) (quoting Hales Rules For His Judicial Guidance, Things Necessary to be Continually Had in Remembrance).

2
The Court largely ignores the fact that judicial elections are not limited to races for the highest court in the State. Even if announcing ones views in the context of a campaign for the State Supreme Court might be permissible, the same statements are surely less appropriate when one is running for an intermediate or trial court judgeship. Such statements not only display a misunderstanding of the judicial role, but they also mislead the voters by giving them the false impression that a candidate for the trial court will be able to and should decide cases based on his personal views rather than precedent.
Indeed, the Courts entire analysis has a hypothetical quality to it that stems, in part, from the fact that no candidate has yet been sanctioned for violating the announce clause. The one complaint filed against petitioner George Wersal for campaign materials during his 1996 election run was dismissed by the Board. App. 1621. Moreover, when Wersal sought an advisory opinion during his 1998 campaign, the Board could not evaluate his request because he had not specified what statement [he] would make that may or may not be a view on a disputed, legal or political issue. Id., at 32. Since Wersal failed to provide examples of statements he wished to make, and because the Board had its own doubts about the constitutionality of the announce clause, it advised Wersal that unless the speech at issue violates other prohibitions listed in Canon 5 or other portions of the Code of Judicial Conduct, it is our belief that this section is not, as written, constitutionally enforceable. Ibid. Consequently, the Court is left to decide a question of great constitutional importance in a case in which the petitioners statements were either not subject to the prohibition in question, or he neglected to supply any concrete examples of statements he wished to make, and the Board refused to enforce the prohibition because of its own constitutional concerns.

4
Justice Kennedy would go even further and hold that no content-based restriction of a judicial candidates speech is permitted under the
First Amendment. Ante, at 12 (concurring opinion). While he does not say so explicitly, this extreme position would preclude even Minnesotas prohibition against pledges or promises by a candidate for judicial office. Minn. Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 5(A)(3)(d)(i) (2002). A candidate could say vote for me because I promise to never reverse a rape conviction, and the Board could do nothing to formally sanction that candidate. The unwisdom of this proposal illustrates why the same standards should not apply to speech in campaigns for judicial and legislative office.